The Broken Werewolves: The Human Mate (BxB)

Chapter 13 - Marcus Pierce

CHAPTER 13
MARCUS PIERCE

When I arrive at Blaine's place, I'm all smiles. When I kissed his cheek back at the front porch of his house, I thought that he was going to freak out. But he didn't. Instead, he was rather flushed, his cheeks going a shade of pink as he stared back at me. I had really enjoyed his company. It doesn't matter if what we've only done was to watch movies that were quite interesting to me, it's enough to have him by my side, where he really belongs.

"How was it?" Blaine asks as he shoves his hand into the bucket of cheese flavored popcorn, the sweet aroma invading my nose. I jump into the couch beside him, and some of the contents spill out of the bucket. I give him a grin, letting him know it really went well. "Wow, nice to know that. Something interesting happened?"

I nod my head, smiling now reaching my ears as I stare back at Blaine, but my mind is drifting back to the flushed face my mate had when I kissed his cheek. "I kissed him. On the cheek." I tell him, then I let out a dreamy sigh as my head gets cloudy. "And he didn't freak out. Blaine, he didn't freak out. Do you hear me? Can you believe it?"

Blaine gives me a knowing grin, offering his hand to me for a high-five and I slap it hard, letting him know that I'm really happy and ecstatic. I'm seeing progress here. The progress is fast, faster than I have expected. Before, I thought that the progress would only be visible after weeks of meeting him, but it's barely even a week since I last met him personally then we're already here, at this stage, where he's getting flushed just because of my actions. He claps my back and I throw him a smirk.

"Congratulations, then," he says as he grabs for the remote of the TV, switching it to a sport network that I have no intention of watching. I'm not really into sport, but I'm into Nigel. "Now I must go back to watching my favorite sport."

"Volleyball?" I ask him, craning my neck to look at him, then flick my eyes back to the show.

"Yes," he states, shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth, the cheese powder staining his fingers, then he licks it one by one, his eyes never leaving me the volleyball game on the television. "When you met your mate, how... how does it feel?" he asks me.

"I don't really know how to describe it," I say. It's true. I don't even know how to put it into words; all I know is that Nigel Quintin Ulysses is my mate and no one else. I guess I could use the romantic statements, or words, found in most romance books. Seeing the love of your life is going to make your heart race faster, but at the same time, it has the capability to stop it from beating. When love is being returned back, two hearts beat synchronically, like a two sets of drum banging just to make a wonderful tune. I don't even know where I have read that romantic statements, but I guess I could use it to describe how it really feels. Or maybe I shouldn't describe it at all – after all, when it comes to love, people suddenly have a different meaning for it, other than what you can see in Oxford dictionary, or any other dictionaries that have existed and will ever exist. "Why?"

Propping his feet on the wooden table just in front of him and the television, he turns to look at me and shrugs. "I think I may have found my mate, but I'm not really sure. That's why I was asking, because I wanted to make sure."

"What is your mate like?" I ask him eagerly, scooting closer to him like a child. "Is she beautiful? Is he handsome?"

"He's not human," he states, scrunching his nose up in disappointment, his eyes boring into mine. I furrow my brows at him in confusion. What does he mean that he's not human? Does it mean that his mate is a werewolf, just like us? "He's not a werewolf either. He's neither an Enchanter, a Vampire, one of the Zodiac, but... it's... it's a fucking demon."